


praying for the rain to fall

by whisperingwinds007



Series: in their eyes [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steambabies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingwinds007/pseuds/whisperingwinds007
Summary: a (series of?) Zuko and Katara one-shot(s?) from the perspective of their children. FT Azula and probs Team Avatar (eventually, maybe)
Relationships: Azula & Katara (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: in their eyes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084694
Kudos: 16





	praying for the rain to fall

Sacrificing speed for an undetected presence, he creeps down the darkened halls, his path only illuminated every few seconds with a flash of light. Of course, he needn’t bother with such secrecy in his own home, and it’s not like he’s up to anything delinquent. No, this is simply a want for solitude to watch the storm unobserved.

And so he bites back a frustrated growl upon spotting a silhouette already bold against the next flash of lightning in the viewing room. Storm viewings are a treasured past time in the Fire Nation so it shouldn’t be all that surprising someone else has come to take advantage of the lonely hour and the covered patio overlooking where the royal garden opens up to the hills and falls down to the churning sea.

The surprising part is who sits huddled on the low bench rocking back and forth. It’s two figures actually, holding each other apart.

“I wish it would go away, wish I could make it stop. Can’t you make it stop? You did before, then you restarted his heart. Was that a dream? You made it stop. But he’s not here. He almost- he couldn’t-, wher- he’s not HERE”

“I wish it would go away too. I wish I could make it stop, wish we were dreaming so we could wake up. But we are here. I’m here. Which means he’s here. Right?”

It takes him about three seconds to realize they’ve both been crying and another five to realize why. They are talking about his father.

“I don’t know- I don’t- I don’t – I can’t- I ca-“

“I’ll tell you what I know. My na-name is Katara. I am from the Southern Water Tribe. I live in Caldera where I am the, the Lady. The Lady of Fire and Water. Z-Zuk- My husband. My husband is the Fire Lord. I love him and his sister, Azula.”

“I am Azula. Of the Fire Nation. Princess of Fire, sister to Zuko. Zuko who is the Fire Lord so he has to be here”

“He is Fire Lord. Is not was, not would be. Is.”

“Then why isn’t he HERE”

Another flash illuminates the scrunched brow and the broken gaze.

He has always loved storms. The thundering rain drumming overhead and the crackling air charging the room. The lightning weaving patterns across the sky. His love of storms comes from his parents; they always seek him and his siblings out in a storm. They’ll pile onto the large ruby bed, hold each other close and tell stories about the spirits. There is laughter and giggles while they regale the twins with outlandish tales. Wide eyes and enrapt faces as they each spin stories of the own. It’s one of his favorite family activities, a time for them to simply be. A whole unit, his whole heart. The only reason it’s not happening tonight is because his father is out of the city, visiting the Sun Warriors with Izumi. They’ve been gone for nearly two weeks and are expected to return in the morning. The rest of his siblings were already asleep when the rain started. 

He’d thought his mother would likewise be dead asleep, exhausted after overseeing both his father’s and her own responsibilities. He’d always thought she was unflappable. This week alone she’d wrangled two of the pricklier ministers into backing an agreement his father had been trying to convince them off for months, handled a potable water shortage in the eastern isles, planned a head of state visit, and started healing lessons with his brother. And she’s never shaken from the storms. If anything, they rejuvenate her; In the monsoons she runs into the garden, arms wide to kiss the rain; in their storm viewings she makes a game of spotting shapes in the clouds.

He’s only ever seen her crack when he asked about his father’s scars.

There is an energy to the room, static and raw rather than charged and smooth as it is outside. This feels like a moment meant to remain undisturbed, a moment for two, a pair of slippers saved for one wear or a fresh fallen snow before it’s tracked with footprints. He doesn’t want to shatter it. But his mother is shaking and Azula is curled in on herself and he wants to hold them together but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think he could do it any better than they do for each other. 

“Mother? Aunt Azula?”

“Kai? Sweetheart, what are you doing out of bed?”

“I wanted to watch the dance”

Azula stirs – “Dance?”

He crosses to the glass door and slides it open. “The lightning dance.”

Kai loves his Aunt Azula and has never understood the wide berth most people give her. The whispers and the silent exits when she enters a room, the small enrollment in her martial history classes despite her mastery. If it bothers her, she’s never let him see. What she does show him, with quips and closed smiles is how to bend fire. She never says a harsh word, even when he knows he’s miss-stepped, but offers her hand to help him back up. He sees and mimics her love for the flame in her elegant stride, her precise touch, her proud stance. Yet he is the only one she will bend fire with. Some days she seems hesitant to teach and overtly protective and he knows that some hurts never truly go away. But when he was young, she was the one he shared his nightmares with, for to him, she is fearless.

“Zuzu loves to dance”

“He’s off dancing with the dragons tonight,” his mother says with a soft smile on her face.

“But he is here? Isn’t he?”

Kai comes to sit between them and takes their hands in his. He follows their gaze, watching the lightning whirl upon the waves.

“I like to pretend the storm is our family. It’s a meeting, a kai, of fire and water, hot and cold, like us. The sound of the water on the roof, steady as a drum, determined, is my father. The spark in the air is my mother: warm and full of life. The thunder, loud and powerful is my aunt. Me and my siblings are the lightning’s path, touching sea and bringing fire, spindling out into the world. The pools at our feet are grandfather Iroh, reflecting our truths and nourishing our roots. The enveloping wind is my aunt, holding us together and pushing us on our way. My mother’s laughter, persistent and bright is the shine of the lightning. The feel of the warm rain on my skin, cleansing, and there to catch us when we fall is my father’s arms. The humid air that hugs too close and wipes away, the cold dance of fire and water, the crackling heat, is us together.

When I see the storm, I see my family.”  
.  
.  
“I see it too”  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

This is how Zuko finds them in the morning. Curled up on the bench in a heap, hands clasped together, hearts beating to the drum of the rain and the retreating steps of the storm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I was always struck by how Azula really broke when she shot Zuko. She knew aiming for Katara would hurt him emotionally, but I also think she saw an opportunity to defeat him without killing him in cold blood and took it. And then when she saw she might have killed him anyway, it was one of the triggers to push her mental state. The emotional pain and trauma of Zuko taking Azula's lightning is something Katara and Azula have in common, and I wanted to explore that.
> 
> This is my first writing of this short (fanfic, available to the public, dialogue, etc) so appreciate any and all feedback :)


End file.
